Threat Level
by badfanfictionaire
Summary: Bucky wants to go back to the way things were before he was TWS, but he knows that can't happen. What he does know is that he doesn't want to rejoin society until he knows he's not a threat. What he doesn't know is how long that's going to take. (This fic features some OCs!)
1. Anton Vavilov

One thing is for certain, Bucky knows he can't go back into the 'real world' until he knows he isn't a threat to anyone. The only thing he doesn't know is how long that's going to take.

For the first couple of weeks after he leaves Steve on the side of the river his only goal is to make sure that Steve survived. After giving the hospital proper surveillance, he knows Steve's going to make it, and he leaves for New Jersey the very next day.

The taxi driver takes him into the city in the middle of the night and drops him at the first cheap hotel Bucky sees. He doesn't know if his Hydra issued credit cards will still work, or if he can remember how to use them, but he has to hope for the best.

According to the ATM screen (after he finally gets it work) he's only got $250 dollars to his name. They have him down as "Anton Vavilov", though he knows now that's not who he really is. He tells the hotel receptionist his name is James Barnes, though he's not sure that name is fitting anymore either.

"You know, you look just like that guy in the museum," the woman tells him, snapping her gum loudly, "But I'm sure you get that a lot, huh?"

He clears his throat and asks her who she's referring to, his voice comes out gruff with a strange accent to it.

"The one who was with Captain America, in the video. My kid had to go to New York for a field trip the other day and they had this video in one of the museums about how Cap's friend, Bubba or something, died in a train accident or somethin'."

"Oh, sorry, I've never heard of him before. I'm not.. from around here."

"I got that by the accent darlin'," the woman says, "What is that, Austrian or somethin'?"

"Russian," Bucky tells her uncomfortably.

"Oh, right, Russia. That giant winter wonderland. Alright, well enjoy your stay hun." She handed Bucky the hotel key and went back to her TV program. It was in color, Bucky noticed.

There were a lot of things he was going to have to get used to in 2014.

**Current Threat Level Status: _unknown_**


	2. James

In the morning he had to leave the hotel. He didn't have enough money to stay another night, and he really needed to go to New York. That's where Steve was from, supposedly.

There was only so much he remembered from the past. It came in waves. Sometimes he felt 100% like the Russian assassin he still resembled. He would mutter in Russian, clean his weapons, put on his black war paint… and then when he woke up he was disgusted by the face he saw in the mirror and couldn't remember why he had a loaded gun under his pillow.

The good thing was he didn't mind being out on the streets because he was fairly used to it. Or least one facet of him was. He started to look at his existence as a multi-sided die. Certain aspects of Bucky Barnes still remained, like the odd desire for everything to be orderly and military-like, and the bits and pieces of his own biography. Then there were the aspects of the Russian guy, whoever he was, that remembered how to work modern things like phones and TVs, but that was restless and paranoid. His brain flipped back and forth at random. Some days he got a good balance of the two, the part that felt human and the part that knew how to hail a cab without being run over in the busy NYC streets.

Being in New York was dragging up some old memories, and that felt good. At night he would find a place to settle down in Central Park, his stealth senses made it easy not to get caught by any guards. He remembered getting hot dogs with Steve at Coney Island, going to bars and trying to pick up women…

Time drifted by slowly. The local paper told him it was almost September, and the fall breeze agreed. It was beginning to get chilly, but Bucky's body was used to the Russian cold. When it started to get really bad he found a shelter to stay the night on. The free soup there was better than the pretzels and candied nuts he'd been stealing from street carts. He used their restroom to splash some water on his face and slick his hair back so it didn't hang in his eyes. He hadn't bothered to try and cut it because it didn't feel right yet, who ever he was right now didn't care how he looked. The tangled mess of brown locks fell just passed his shoulders now, creating a stark contrast to the single photo of James Barnes he'd seen.

In the mess hall a man with tired eyes sat across from him, looking for someone to talk to.

"Where ya from?" the man asked with a thick New York accent.

His own voice came out still marred with a hint of a Russian accent, "I think Indiana."

"Been that long since you been home? That you don't remember, huh?" the man let out a deep belly laugh, "You don't look old enough to be that lost, kid."

Bucky shrugged, "Not much I can do about it."

The man sighed, "I hear that. The name's Phil, by the way. What's yours, kid?"

"James," Bucky told him stiffly.

"You don't look much like a James, but if that's who you wanna be I won't stop you." Phil slurped some coffee from his styrofoam cup and looked around the room."This is never where I meant to end up, you know?"

Bucky nodded but didn't say anything.

"I was in the army, they sent me over to Iraq. I came back and… Well, you know. Shit happens. PTSD will lose you a lot in life if you can't kick it. Wife left, took the kids, and here I am."

"I'm sorry," Bucky replied.

"Hey, don't be, wasn't your fault. I'm sure you're in a worse situation than me, to end up here so early on."

"Similar story, actually," Bucky confided, "Very similar."

"Ah," Phil said, slurping more coffee, he looked at Bucky to continue.

"I was, uh… Kidnapped, overseas. Taken hostage. I came back and everyone I knew was gone. And here I am."

"Well shit kid, that's no kind of life story."

"I'm hoping the ending will be better," Bucky sighed. He folded his mitten clad hands in his lap and leaned against the table.

"You otta try gettin' a job some place, they'll take young kids like you just about anywhere if they think you've got any background worth using. I mean even McDonald's, something. You can't afford to live like this, James. Clean yourself up, get back on your feet. You've still got time to get back on track. You don't have _anyone_ that can help you out?"

Not yet, he thought. "Just me," Bucky said softly. Because I don't trust myself yet.

**Current Threat Leve l Status ****_: moderate_**


	3. Might Be Nice

Some part of him knew enough to fake a resume. He wasn't sure which facet of himself was the clever one, but for the moment it didn't matter much. He'd realized that Phil was on to something when he'd said Bucky should get a job somewhere.

Working at the movie theater seemed to be a pretty good job for him. The interior space had this thing called "air conditioning" which made it fairly cool and allowed him to wear long sleeves at all times. The people there were a little put off by his gloves at first, but no one directly questioned him about it.

Bucky especially loved it when the theater wasn't busy and they allowed him to use his free weekly ticket and sit in the back row of a showing. Modern color films were great, and there were so many to choose from. He didn't care for the one about the Princess who shot ice around her kingdom, but he did really enjoy the one about Noah's Ark. He couldn't figure out how they'd made all the animals ride on the boat in the ocean like that until one of the other workers explained that most of it was designed on computers.

He largely went through his days unnoticed by the other staff members, until one day a girl with really long eyelashes named Mandy started talking to him as they served popcorn.

"Have you ever been to the Intrepid Museum?" she questioned hesitantly.

"Uh no, what do they have there?" Bucky replied flatly.

"It's a sea, air, and space gallery. They have a lot of ships and stuff… They had this special exhibit not that long ago on the helicarriers that SHIELD was using… You look just like the guy who was Steve Roger's old partner, in the film."

"Sorry, I haven't seen that film."

"I mean, there's no way you're the same guy. I watched a few other videos on the internet. They have a gallery at the Smithsonian and in their videos they talk about how Cap's partner died in a train wreck… It's all a little confusing, they make it sound like he was immortal and came back on the helicarrier to kill Captain America. You should check it out, you're a dead ringer for that guy. I bet you could play him in a movie or something."

"Yeah," Bucky grumbled, not wanting to keep up conversation.

"It's such a shame you know?" Mandy sighed, "Cap's partner, the one who was cool not the killer one, was _so_ charming."

"I'm sure he was," Bucky grimaced.

"Oh, sorry… I wasn't trying to make it seem like you weren't charming, because you look like the killer one… Okay, I'm just going to stop while I'm ahead… Sorry, sorry…"

Bucky remained quiet, resisting the urge to roughly warn Mandy about bad mouthing people. Instead he handed two little kids their bags of popcorn and rinsed his buttery hands in the sink. They worked without another word until the end of the shift when Mandy cast a hesitant glance at him and piped up, "You know, come to think of it, you do actually look like both of Cap's partners… Just… More scruffy than the first. But less serial killer-esque than the last… I just, wanted to clarify… Have a nice night…"

"You didn't have to clarify," Bucky sighed, "But thank you anyway."

"Have you ever thought about…" Mandy said, gesturing around Bucky's general being, "You know, trying something… Different? Like maybe not all black? Or like, at least a hair tie?"

Part of me has, Bucky thought, the other half was too busy trying not to kill people like you… "Yeah," Bucky muttered, "Not really my thing."

Mandy looked embarrassed. Her cheeks turned pink and she tilted her head down so her bangs sort of shielded her from his gaze. "You seem like a nice guy," she told him, "I know what its like, to put up that wall? So people don't ask questions? But it doesn't do a lot of good, you just wind up sad and lonely. Its not really fun being open and social at first, but its better than being alone…"

"Thanks, Mandy," Bucky replied curtly, "You seem nice too." He couldn't imagine her being anything less than the young perky movie theater girl she was currently, but then again he barely knew her. The same as she couldn't imagine him being the soldier in a crisp uniform standing alongside Captain Rogers…

Mandy's voice shook him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see her staring at him expectantly.

"So, is that a yes or…?"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, I know you probably don't want to, but I was thinking maybe you'd want to get dinner sometime?"

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty three. Just old enough to live on my own but not old enough to have a good career yet."

"Oh," Bucky muttered, "That's really nice of you, but…"

"And don't take this the wrong way, but if you ever need a place to stay, my apartment has a futon… Um, just in case you uh… Wanted to know that."

He felt his face flush, Mandy knew he didn't have a place to go after work. He wondered how many other people had figured that out by now.

"You can't be more than what, twenty six? So it's not like there's a creepy age gap… Well I mean, I don't think its creepy… Okay, stopping talking…"

"You seem really nice, Mandy, but I'm not sure you want a friend like me, I'm not really the 'friend' type."

She struggled to hide her disappointment, but Bucky saw it clearly on her face. "Uh, okay… Sorry, to bother you… You must think I'm so strange now… Uh, have a good night…"

"... Maybe a coffee?"

"Uh, yeah…" she smiled a little, "Yeah, that'd be nice."

He returned the slight smile, "Yeah, I think it would."

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_moderate_**


	4. James Brown

The next time Bucky and Mandy worked the same shift he knew she was going to want to get coffee after, he was expect that much, but he wasn't expecting her to start drilling him for information as soon as they walked out the door.

"So what's your last name again?"

"Brown," he replied.

"James Brown, original," Mandy commented, "Were you named after the musician?"

"Who?"

"Never mind…"

"Sorry, I just didn't know there was a musician named James Brown, so I guess that answers your question," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Of course you didn't…" Mandy mused softly, "If you don't know James Brown, who do you know?"

"Uh… Glenn Miller," Bucky offered, "Louis Armstrong?"

"Of course," Mandy laughed, "Jazz, I should have known."

"How could you have known? You hardly know me at all, I wouldn't expect you to know what I like for music..." he questioned.

"Never mind," Mandy said again, "Okay, so favorite movie?"

"Don't have one," Bucky replied honestly.

"You work in a movie theater and you don't have a favorite movie, go figure."

He turned away from her as they kept walking but he felt her eyes on him still, it was making him uneasy.

"Are you going to make me do all the talking?" Mandy mumbled as they turned yet another corner.

"Sorry," Bucky muttered, "Not big on it."

"You don't seem to be big on much," Mandy retorted, "You know, you could have said no to coming with me."

"Didn't want to hurt your feelings," Bucky said lightly.

"Well you are right now, by not giving me anything to work with. It's not exactly fun when someone puts themself out there and you just mope around. Also, coffee was your idea."

"Sorry," Bucky muttered, feeling his cheeks get hot.

"You are one weird dude," Mandy sighed, "And that's an understatement…"

"Tell me about yourself," Bucky blurted, "I'm not that interesting…"

She eyed him suspiciously and then obliged his request. "Well, you know the basics. I live in a shit-hole apartment, I went to school for English Literature. Last name is Handover. I like Frank Sinatra and my favorite movie is anything with Mark Wahlberg in it..."

"Who's Mark Wahlberg?"

"Of course, you don't know him either. Boston accent, really well muscled guy, used to be a rapper. He's in _Shooter_ and _Pain &amp; Gain_."

"Uh huh," Bucky replied, not having a clue what she was talking about.

They reached the coffee shop and he held the door open for her which received a grateful smile. "Chivalry's not dead after all," she laughed.

He didn't know what that was supposed to imply, but he didn't dare admit it.

They ordered two coffees and a container of powdered donuts. Mandy got something fancy with whipped milk, and Bucky just took his coffee black, and then they opted to sit at a booth. Initially neither of them said anything, but then Mandy piped up again. He was starting to get used to her incessant talking, but he was still uneasy about her constant questions.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't know if a ponytail would look good on you after all."

He tried not to envision muffling her with his sweatshirt and then stalking out into the night. Instead he just tried to look interested in what she had to say and sipped his coffee.

"I know its weird, but I have this bad habit of over analyzing people. And you are definitely not the ponytail kind of guy… I just can't decide what kind of guy you are."

"I don't think I'm any 'type' of guy," Bucky said flatly.

Mandy shrugged, "I guess, maybe."

"Sorry, that was rude…"

"It's fine," Mandy said, "I talk a lot, you don't. I get it, I'm annoying you."

"I'm not used to having to make conversation," he admitted.

"I can't imagine why," Mandy said under her breath, as if he wasn't supposed to hear. He let it go, not wanting to hear her theory on his lack of conversation skills. "My ex boyfriend was a computer analyst for some huge company," she sighed, "He was all suits and ties, nothing unique. But he had this stupid haircut that made him look like he walked off of an early Beatles album cover. It was god awful."

Beetles album? He'd never heard of an album about bugs, nor could he imagine why anyone would waste money making albums (something expensive to produce) on insects. Not to mention, as far as he knew beetles didn't have hair…

"Okay," he said, "Where is this story going exactly?"

"Sorry, sorry. My point was that I guess sometimes you aren't one type of person, so its sort of hard to pin down. So I get it, that maybe you aren't any type of guy. I mean, the next time I saw Scott he was joining the National Guard and he'd started sporting a mustache, which was some how worse than the dumb haircut."

He studied Mandy for a moment, not being able to place her next to a guy with a mustache and a nice suit. In fact she looked a lot like the lead female role in that new movie about Spider Man, which he'd just gotten a free ticket to see earlier that week. She wasn't a pin up girl by any means, but she was cute and had a bubbly personality. Not the sort of gal who would stick around in a stuffy office while her guy worked the late shift.

"After he broke up with me, I was mortified. He was the sort of guy people say you're supposed to end up with. He had a job, a good place to live, he was going places… I felt like such a failure. I didn't talk to anyone for months because I kept thinking there must've been something wrong with me for him to just leave…"

"He doesn't seem like he was that great, Mandy," Bucky chimed in before she could continue.

Her face flushed, "No, you're right. That's what I figured out eventually. But for a while I was so down on myself, I kept thinking about all the bad things I had ever done and I felt like I was some how responsible for him not wanting me. But it wasn't that, he'd just moved on…"

"Sometimes you have to move on," he mused.

"Yeah," Mandy sighed, finishing her coffee in one big swallow, "Listen, James. Um, I just wanted to say, that whatever it is that's holding you back? Learn from me, okay? Don't hold on to all the wrong things."

As they got up to leave Mandy handed him a small scrap of paper. "Just in case," she said with a small smile. And then she left.

As he walked out on to the chilly side walk he looked at the paper and stopped dead in his tracks.

* * *

_You're probably going to think this is creepy but I looked you up online, and you don't exist. _

_(At least "James Brown" from Pensacola who studied at MIT doesn't…) _

_Also, I'm not stupid. James Brown? Come on, at least pick different initials! _

_Anyhow, if you ever want to talk, like really talk, about anything, let me know. _

_You shouldn't have to face this alone, and there are people out there who would be more than willing to help you._

_-Mandy_

_456 West 36th Ave, Apt. 4B. _

* * *

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_considerable_**


	5. Captain America Key-chain

Mandy knew who he was, somehow. He wasn't sure if this was something that should terrify him or put him at ease, but he needed to talk to her. _Now._

"Oh good," Mandy said as she opened the door dressed in her pajamas and half asleep, "It's just you, not a burglar."

"How did you know," Bucky growled, holding the note close to her face.

Her eyes went wide with a bit of fright, "I uh, when you took the rubber serving gloves off, to wash your hands, I saw… your 'hand'. And I mean I wasn't sold because people to weird shit like that all the time, especially in New York, so I was like 'well it could be a tattoo or something', but then there was the whole fact that you look just like the guy from the video and you don't know much about anything before the 40s…"

"Please tell me you haven't told anyone else."

"Why would I? I wasn't even sure I was right, but now you're standing on my front stoop, at midnight, and you look like you're going to stab me in the neck, so I guess I was… By the way, please don't stab me."

"Not going to," Bucky muttered.

"Gee, thanks," Mandy replied, her eyes still dilated, "By the way, I got home and someone had left me a small box addressed to you so… If you want it, you can come in…"

Her apartment was up a million flights of stairs and down a lengthy, musty hallway, but inside it was warm and nicely decorated. Small glass lights on a string hung around the windows and a collage of magazine cut outs decorated one of the walls.

"I was just going to give it to you tomorrow at work, if you showed up, but you can just take it now," Mandy said as she walked into the kitchenette.

"How did they know to give it to you?" Bucky questioned.

"Beats me, I don't even know who its from, it doesn't say."

He took the small cardboard box from her and carefully pried the top open. Inside was a small envelope, a plastic bag with a comb, soap and a clean long sleeve shirt, and a book. He peeled the envelope open and found a couple of things in it. One was a plastic card with James B Barnes written in gold raised letters on it, a StarkGold Card to be exact. The next thing was a piece of lined paper with familiar handwriting scrawled on it.

_Buck,_

_Thought maybe this would be helpful until you're ready to come back. _

_I put $1,000 on it, but I can add more whenever you need it. _

_We left this with Mandy because she seems trustworthy, we ran a back-ground check on her._

_If you need anything else just leave a note for me with her. _

_I'll let you have your space, but whenever you want I'll be here, ready to talk._

_Best of Luck,_

_Steve_

The last item was a bronze house key with a little mini Captain America shield key-chain attached to it.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_considerable_**


	6. Coffee and Bagels

The room was pitch black when he woke up, startled. He had to think for a moment to remember where he was: on Mandy's futon. She'd insisted he stay the night because now that she knew The Avengers were watching her she was afraid they'd be upset if she didn't protect him. He'd insisted it wasn't necessary, that he'd been on his own long enough to survive just fine, but she was more persistent than he'd anticipated.

He glanced over at the counter and saw the box from Steve with the key-chain dangling over the side. A twinge of guilt struck him, for not having stuck around longer to see him.

He rolled over on the futon so he could look out the window. The smell of clean sheets wafted his way and he felt even more guilty. Why should he, a man who killed so many innocent people, be allowed to sleep on a clean set of sheets? He was so aware of all the smells in Mandy's apartment it almost made him dizzy. Her hand soap smelled like fresh lemons, a glass vase of oil in on her coffee table smelt of lavender...

He'd put on the shirt from Steve so Mandy could run his other one through the wash. Bucky could smell, faintly, the lingering scent of Steve's favorite cologne in the fabric. It was mixed with strawberries and cream shampoo, Mandy's favorite, because she refused to let him sleep on clean sheets without showering thoroughly beforehand.

Mandy was too kind to him, and almost naive about the situation as a whole. He feared he might hurt her, unintentionally, if the Winter Soldier started to flare up inside him. But she didn't seem to notice he was worried about her safety, and if she'd picked up on it she was hiding it well. For someone being monitored by well trained special intelligence operatives and housing a former Russian assassin, she was level headed and sympathetic. Some how she understood that he liked his space and didn't enjoy being pestered with questions, though she also knew the right ones to ask to get him talking. He liked that about her.

At around 2am he still hadn't fallen asleep and Mandy's phone suddenly started ringing. It was one of those small ones with the glass screen, a cellphone, if he remembered correctly. He heard footsteps and Mandy emerged from her bedroom, eying him apologetically. After a lengthy and stressful sounding phone call she came back into the living room. "Sorry about that, I forgot I had company, I should have taken my phone in my room."

"Not a problem, I couldn't sleep anyhow," he admitted, "Who calls you at 2 am though?"

"Oh," Mandy blushed, "My other job, sorry, I never mention it because people tend to start asking questions I can't answer. I'm part of the suicide hotline. People can call in if they're in need of someone to talk to to prevent them from killing themselves."

"Oh," Bucky replied with admiration, "I didn't know they had those."

She nodded, "Sorry I woke you, if I did."

"You didn't," he assured her.

* * *

The next time he woke up there was sun glinting in his eyes. There was a mug and a half a pot of coffee left for him with a note from Mandy.

_We don't have to be in to work until 2 pm so I stepped out to grab breakfast. I can't cook and I was guessing you probably can't either, but I'm out of cereal. Be back in a bit!_

_-Mandy_

No sooner had he read the note than he heard the patter of shoes coming up the steps. Mandy's key jiggled in the lock and she stepped into the apartment carrying a bag of bagels in one hand an a bag of some other stuff in the other.

"I took the liberty of grabbing you a few more shirts so you won't have to alternate between just the two black ones," Mandy said, kicking the door shut behind her. "There's a tiny dollar store on the corner that opens early, thought you might like something different to wear to work."

He could see she was blushing a little but didn't know why. "How did you know what size to buy? And you didn't have to do that, really."

"I looked at the tag of the one you had on, and the one Captain… er, Steve sent you... I guess you're a large because the one you have on fits fine so…"

"Why are you blushing?" he blurted.

She shook her head, "I'm just flushed from going up those stairs, want a bagel?"

Bucky nodded and took the bags from her, setting them down on the counter. "You don't have to lie to me," he said cautiously, "I'm not going to hurt you if you say something I might not like."

Mandy let out a nervous laugh, "No, I'm not worried I just... Okay, if you must know, I just... I started to realize that I li-"

A knock on the door interrupted her and she gratefully went to open it. Outside the door no one was there, but another package lay at the threshold.

One of the envelopes inside was addressed to Mandy, the other to Bucky.

_Dear Mandy,_

_Sorry for the sudden involvement in your life, I'm just thankful Bucky found you. He has always had a hard time warming up to people, but I think he likes you well enough already. You should be fine, but if you need help call the Stark Tower, extension 34, and just tell them it's Mandy for Steve. They'll know who you are. _

_Don't let him give you a hard time, keep him in his place, and if he's getting under your skin just tell him he's starting to look like a drown rat, that'll shut him up._

_Thanks again._

_Best,_

_Steve Rogers_

_PS: He's oblivious to flirtatious, sorry about that._

_Buck,_

_Hope things are working out better for you now that you're staying with Mandy. I had Natasha drop this stuff off for you, she's in the area so if you want some Russian company you know who to look for. (You remember her, right? Black Widow?)_

_Anyhow, try to be nice to Mandy. She's the best thing you've got going for you right now._

_Best,_

_Steve_

_PS: The poor dame is into you, throw the girl a bone._

"What's yours say?"

"Not much."

"Yeah, mine either."

**_Current Threat Level Status: __moderate_**


	7. (Almost) Bucky Barnes

Two weeks later Bucky finally felt like he was settling into life in 2014. He still felt out of place in the bustling city, and staying in Mandy's apartment, but going to work everyday (and not being in the army), having a cellphone, and seeing movies with special effects were all now part of his routine. He'd taken up getting lunch with Mandy at a deli by the theater, and he always paid because he felt bad about still being on her futon. Mandy never said a word about him leaving, in fact she made it clear he was welcome to stay as long as he felt he wanted to. "Whatever you want to to is what you want to do. This is the 21st century in America, people do what they please, for themselves."

"Well that goes for you too," Bucky reminded her, "You can ask me to leave whenever ..."

She shook her head cutting him off, "You'll know if I want you to leave. I've taken up a no nonsense policy since my last screw up of a roommate/boyfriend left. It won't be a secret if I want someone gone from my life."

"Oh," Bucky replied, embarrassed, "Good to know."

Doing what you want to do seemed to be part of Mandy's regular pep talks, as it was becoming apparent. Every time Bucky asked her opinion it was always "well what do _you_ want?" Unless it was something directly pertaining to her, Mandy wanted him to choose on his own. It was like relearning how to care about yourself, Bucky realized. He'd been compliant for so long he'd forgotten that he could care about things. He could choose what shirt he wore, what he ordered for lunch, how he liked his eggs with breakfast…

"So you didn't like wolf of Wall Street?" Mandy asked, interrupting his train of thought and shaking some ketchup onto her fries.

"No," Bucky replied honestly. They'd watched it last night on a DVD (which was a type of movie a company called "the red box" sold). "Call me old fashion but that was highly inappropriate behavior for a businessman."

"Says the 90 old American who was a Russian assassin and swears like a sailor during a heated card game."

"Sorry," Bucky shrugged, running his hand through his hair subconsciously. Mandy was grinning at him, something he'd noticed she did a lot when they got to talking about movies together. It made him uncomfortable in a kind of familiar and "good" way.

"Not to mention," Mandy said biting a fry, "You certainly don't look like Mr. 1940s man, so any time you want to stop being a stick in the mud..."

She giggled, signaling she was just teasing. He sighed, carding through his hair again. After a moment he glanced at her and then said, "I've actually been contemplating... Do you think I should do something … with this?"

"With your hair?" Mandy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not my domain, that's up to you."

"But I want your opinion," Bucky told her earnestly, "Like you said, I'm Mr. 1940s, but I'm not anymore... I mean it isn't bothering me to just keep it as is, sort of, it just feels... Wrong, kinda. I'm not the same person I was with Hydra, and I'm not the same guy I was with the US military either so... I don't know... Forget it, it's a stupid question."

"You're allowed to ask stupid questions," Mandy laughed, "Its part of being human. But seriously, it isn't up to me to decide. It doesn't impact me, I just think you should do what makes you happy. That impacts me, because I don't want an unhappy man-who-can-kill-me-with-his-bare-hands on my couch."

"Got it," Bucky sighed again, "I'm just having a hard time figuring out what the current me wants. I don't really remember what the old me liked, and Russian-me didn't like much of anything…"

"Well, we know you like burgers and fries. You don't like poppy seed bagels. Or Leonardo DiCaprio movies."

"He can't act!"

"Says you!"

"You just like him because you think he's charming."

Mandy blushed deeply and Bucky was reminded of a conversation they'd had before. "Before you knew who I was, you said something about thinking Captain America's friend in the Smithsonian videos was charming."

"I was just trying to get a rise out of you, to see if you were him… You, I guess"

"Yeah," Bucky replied knowingly, "I understand, sorry."

* * *

"You know, folks like you don't come in here all too often," the kind faced woman behind Bucky said as she fussed with her cart of brushes, clips, and combs.

"I'm sure of that," Bucky sighed, "But I guess there's always one who does."

"You look lost, kid," the woman told him, her name tag said she was Sheila. "You know more often than not when I think someone looks lost, it's because they've stopped living life one way, and now they're thinking it's high time they started over. Is that you?"

"Pretty much," he told her.

Sheila was quiet for a moment, "You were in a war, weren't you? I seen that look one too many times on the face of a young guy, that's why you're lost, ain't it?"

Bucky nodded slowly.

"My son was in the war too, over in Iraq. Twenty two years old, bravest soul… He wound up just like you when he came back. Didn't know up from down, stopped caring… It wasn't the same seeing him show up for dinner looking bedraggled and distant. A year after he came back from the war, his depression got the best of him… I hope you pull through, kid."

"I'm sorry, about your son," Bucky said quietly, "I can't say I'm in the same exact same state of mind, but I've been there. It isn't fun, to come back to the civilian world after seeing battle… It does something to you."

Sheila nodded gravely, "I'm glad to see you've still got your wits about you, kid. You must have a ray of sunshine tucked in your back pocket, keeping you going. I wish Jay had that, but I don't know what good it would have done him… You keep your chin up, kid."

"I'll do my best," Bucky told her, "Thank you."

Sheila nodded again, combing his hair, "So, we ain't gonna shock your system are we? I don't want to send you out of here with your tail between your legs."

"Quite frankly ma'am, I think that's what I might need. My system's been running a little slow lately."

Sheila offered a kind smile, "Say, you know, I think I know what would suit you. Mind if I take a little creative license?"

"Creative sounds like just what I need," Bucky told her, "I just need something… different."

Oddly enough when he left Sheila's chair it wasn't something creative Sheila had done, but rather something very familiar, at least for Bucky. The face in the mirror when he stood up to leave was one he hadn't seen in quite a long time, but it was a surprisingly welcome sight.

There was a hint of something in Sheila's eyes when he went to pay her and she asked, "So, what war did you serve in?"

"One too many," Bucky replied, "That's all I know."

"Ah," Sheila mused, "Well, you have a good day sir. And thank you, for your service."

As he walked by the glass shop windows on the way back to Mandy's, the face he saw looking back at him looked an awful lot like Bucky Barnes, and he was beginning to think he was okay with that.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_moderate _**


	8. Good Mood Gone Bad

When Bucky walked into Mandy's apartment that afternoon he was quite pleased with himself; he was in a better mood than he had been in in months. But the happiness faded quickly when he realized Mandy was missing. They'd had an unspoken rule that if she was leaving the apartment for any reason she'd leave a note for him so he'd see it when he got back. There wasn't a note anywhere he could see, and one of the windows in her bedroom was open. Mandy had a rule about not leaving any doors or windows open, just as a precaution.

_You need to call Steve_.

He shook away the thought, not wanting to drag Steve into the situation.

_You need help. Call Steve._

He dug through several drawers, hopelessly searching for Mandy's phone number, thinking if he could get his cellphone to work maybe he could just call and see if she was okay. It was no use, before long he was restlessly throwing papers from her desk drawer to the floor in hopes of finding some 'clue', but he knew he was going to have to suck it up and get backup or Mandy could really be in trouble soon.

* * *

"Buck…?"

"Hi, Steve."

"Oh my… Bucky, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's Mandy… She's gone, Steve."

"Oh Bucky, I'm so sorry, she was a bit young for you any way…"

"No, Steve, she's _gone_. Someone took her."

"What!? How do you know? She didn't leave a note, she always does, and the window was open in the bedroom."

"I'm sending Natasha over, I'll be there as soon as I can, hang in there. And Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"It's really good to hear from you, ya jerk."

_Not now Steve._ "Thanks, Steve."

There was a loud bang on the door and moments later a fiery redhead barged into Mandy's apartment. Bucky remembered her, but he wasn't sure when they'd met.

"The knock was more of a courtesy," she stated, glancing at the door, "I figured we'd start on good terms and go from there."

"Nice to see you too, Nat."

"Uh-uh, you don't get to call me Nat, yet. You go off all homicidal and nutso and leave Steve for dead on the riverbank and then waltz around with this little blondie, you don't get to call me anything cute, capeesh?"

He nodded, caught off guard by her boisterous personality. It was familiar yet overwhelming.

"So what happened, you go off for a day on the town and she gets kidnapped?"

"I think," Bucky said, "But I can't find much to give me an indication as to what played out."

"Well, fortunately for you, I had eyes on this place from the moment Steve picked you up in this area with his nifty device thing Tony gave him. We can pull up surveillance and see what went down."

"You guys were watching the apartment this whole time?"

"We ran some algorithms when you started working at the movie theater, figured you and blondie would be compatriots, and decided to just make sure she was kosher, that's all. Turns out you two were destined to be roomies, so I guess our science was correct! You can thank us later, once we find your girly."

"Her name is Mandy, and she's not my 'girly', she's my roommate."

"Who has goo-goo eyes for you," Natasha quipped, pulling a slim computer from her messenger bag.

Bucky remained quiet while she cued up the footage from earlier and started playing it for them to watch. His stomach turned, not wanting to see something violent show on the tape, but what ended up playing on the screen before him was not at all what he'd expected to see.

"Oh no…." Natasha sighed, "This is not good, bud."

**Current Threat Level Status: _high_**


	9. Steve

"They had to have been using her, they must have tricked her into thinking they were S.H.E.I.L.D.!" Bucky slammed his hand into the table, sending a pile of papers floating to the ground from the impact.

"Or she gave them the intel voluntarily," Natasha sighed, "I just can't believe you didn't know she was recording you this whole time."

He watched the footage loop again and examined it closely. Mandy was hurrying around the apartment removing what looked to be small recording devices, cameras and microphones smaller than a pinkie fingernail. Just seconds after she took down the last one, a man appeared on a different part of the film and knocked twice on the door. Mandy opened it and handed over the black camera bag full of the devices, and then they both left. Mandy looked calm and collected and not at all surprised to see her guest arrive.

"I let my guard down, I shouldn't have," Bucky grumbled to no one in particular.

"You cared for her," Natasha said matter-of-factly, "And we had your back, or so we thought… What kind of stuff is going to be on those recordings?"  
Bucky had to laugh at the answer, "A lot of arguments about movies, but not much else. I don't _remember_ anything else."

Natasha nodded and offered what looked like an understanding smile and stopped the surveillance video, closing the laptop. Someone else on Nat's team announced Steve's arrival, and Bucky's stomach lurched.

"We have orders to pull our equipment and move him to a safe-house," rang a familiar voice as a firm hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Hiyah Buck, sorry about Mandy, we'll get those recordings back and get you safe, okay?"

Bucky willed himself to say something but his mind was spinning out of control. Steve's presence was dredging up a flurry of memories and emotions. He felt his knees buckle but couldn't stop himself from falling.

* * *

He woke up to the all too familiar sound of a heart rate monitor beeping steadily. His head was pounding and his throat was dry and felt as though it was stuffed with cotton.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and glanced pitifully around the room. Steve was reading the newspaper in on of the chairs by his bed. The television on the wall was playing some sort of cooking tutorial. He coughed suddenly, startling Steve. It was still unfamiliar to see Steve in good health and physical shape, but he was grateful for his friend to be back at his side.

"Hey, you're up!" A smile spread across Steve's face.

Bucky nodded and tried to prop himself up, which resulted in a lot of wheezing. Steve rushed over with a plastic cup of water and handed it to Bucky before helping him into a sitting position.

"Easy does it big guy, you dropped like a rock onto an oak floor. I don't expect your head feels too good, huh?"

Bucky nodded again, "Sore."

Steve patted him on the shoulder and went to the medicine cabinet. "I'll get you some Advil."

It was so strange to hear Steve talking to him so nonchalantly, as though none of the last year had happened… As though none of their past mattered, except the good parts. To him, Steve should be angry and unwilling to hold a conversation. What Bucky had done for HYDRA, and what he'd done to Steve and the rest of them… It was unforgivable. He'd imagined the scenario of him seeing Steve again so many times, but it always ended with one of them walking away, for good. It had never played out like this, like they could still be friends…

He hadn't meant to cry, but all of a sudden hot tears were rolling down his face.

Steve wasted no time hustling back to his side, "Hey, hey… It's alright Bucky, it's gonna be alright. HYDRA's disbanded, they can't find you. It doesn't matter what was on those recordings, they won't find you." Steve rolled him on to his side and hefted him up by the shoulders into an awkward hug.

"How can you act like nothing happened…" Bucky croaked.

"Because I forgive you," Steve said sternly, "I'm not an idiot, I know what HYDRA did to you, and I know the "you" on the helicarrier was _not_ you. I care about _you_, Bucky, and _you _haven't done anything wrong."

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_minimal_**


	10. Sam

The next couple of days were rough. No one really knew what to do until Mandy had been apprehended and the tapes were destroyed. So until then Bucky was under lock and key. Partly that was a good thing, because he was still reeling from getting a lot of his memories back a bit too quickly. But on the other hand he was restless and didn't want to be confined to his new room in the Stark Tower. Steve had talked Tony into letting him have his own space so Bucky could adjust to things on his own terms, and Bucky was grateful for that.

He was thumbing through some of the take-out menus that had been left for him when a knock on the door jolted him to attention. He hadn't gotten many visitors and was still wary of whoever was going to be there when he opened the door. To his relief it was Sam, one of Steve's friends. He'd decided he like Sam a lot because he didn't try to tiptoe around him like some people had, he just went on like Bucky was a normal person.

"So we have some good news and some bad news," Sam told him as he walked in. "The good news is that Mandy was _definitely_ not with HYDRA. The bad news is I was out jogging this morning and I saw this…"

Sam handed Bucky a glossy magazine and his stomach knotted.

"Needless to say, we weren't expecting this, but at least no one from the tabloids, that we know of, are Russian terrorists."

Bucky stared at the cover of the magazine trying not to show his discomfort. The image on the front was of him and Mandy laughing and sharing a plate of cheese fries at the diner. In huge yellow lettering at the top it read _"EXCLUSIVE: My life with the newest Avenger! Amanda Hawthorne tells all!"_

"Steve's already contacted the magazine's CEO and threatened to bomb the building if they don't revoke everything they said and give back all of the resources they got from Mandy. Jarvis helped Tony calculate the location of all the magazines that were released, and Nat's sent out a team to collect and destroy them. The whole thing should blow over by tomorrow."

"I just… Can't understand this," Bucky muttered, "Why would she do something like this? I trusted her! She could have exposed me to _anyone_ that wanted to kill me!"

"Journalists are like that," Sam sighed, "They're charming and manipulative, they get the stories people want."

Bucky thumbed through the pages and looked at the rest of the article, feeling his level of dismay rise with each flip. One page was titled _"How I Brought Him Back From the Brink of Depression"_, the paragraph underneath started off with the line "Lonely, sad, and on the brink of losing it all, Bucky Barnes needed a good friend…". The photos were all of him and Mandy together, some showing him in a very dark light and other showing him having a good time. Eventually he got tired of looking and tore the magazine in half.

"Some of the stuff in there is clearly an exaggeration," Sam laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "One of the sections said you wear pink satin pajamas to bed, but you don't look like a satin guy. I think fleece is more your style..."

"Thanks for letting me know, Sam" Bucky said glumly. "I guess I'm stuck here for another day at least."

"Well, when you finally make it out of here, you're probably going to have some…fans… Just FYI."

Bucky shot him a confused look to which Sam added, "The article did paint you in a pretty interesting light, so if anyone managed to read it before Nat's team yanked the pages from their hands, they're going to know you. People like underdog stories man, they're gonna love yours."

"No one should love my story," Bucky retorted, "I haven't done anything good in 70 years."

Sam offered him a broad teasing smile, "You're the beefy best friend of Captain America, girls are gonna eat that up like cake."

Bucky didn't think what Sam was saying held any water, but he reminded himself he knew very little about the current state of the world. It was possible people nowadays would ignore his wrongdoings simply because he had been Steve's friend for so long, but he just didn't buy that notion.

Before Sam left he looked at Bucky and laughed, "There's one other good thing though, that I just thought of."

Bucky nodded for him to continue not knowing where this was going. "Unless they get a real good look at you, none of those photos are gonna match up to your current look." Sam shot him another big smile and then left, leaving Bucky to contemplate what he'd just said. Then it hit him, all of the photos had been taken before he'd gotten a chance to surprise Mandy with his current haircut. He smirked to himself and went back to the take-out menus. It was a blessing in disguise to look like his old self again, because all of his 'fans' were going to be looking for The Winter Soldier, and Bucky had left him behind.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_minimal_**


	11. Darcy

_**(can you tell I just want him to have friends?!) **_

* * *

The next morning Bucky was just about to shower when he heard a hesitant knock on the door. Not really wanting to answer it he shuffled over and peered through the peephole. At first glance he didn't see anyone, but then he channeled his gaze down slightly and saw a brunette woman he hadn't met before standing to the side of the door frame. He sighed and opened the door enough to peer out at her, sincerely hoping she hadn't been sent by the magazine company or anything.

"Oh sorry if I interrupted your shower," the brunette said immediately, "I can come back later, I just stopped by to introduce myself."

"That's okay," Bucky said, "You are?"

"Darcy Lewis, its a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Ah, nice to meet you to… How do you know who I am?"

"Oh, right, right, sorry. I'm Thor's girlfriend's best friend. Steve told me you moved in and I like to stop by Stark Tower whenever I can because this place is just so huge and way nicer than my apartment building so… Alright, well hi and bye, it was nice to meet you sir."

"Bucky," he blurted, "Uh… I mean, you can call me Bucky, I'm not old enough for 'sir'."

Darcy beamed at him, "You're like 90 years old and a veteran, I should be pushing you in a wheelchair and calling you Sargent while you tell me about 'Nam."

Bucky felt himself smiling and shook his head, "Well it was nice to meet you _ma'am_. Have a nice day."

Darcy turned on her heel and waved at him as she walked away, "Was nice to meet you too, _grandpa_."

* * *

"So I heard you met Darcy," Steve chided as he walked into the Stark Tower library where Bucky was currently 'hiding' with a book on music of the 21st century.

"Yup, she just showed up at my apartment."

"She's really outgoing," Steve replied, "Nothing phases her, she just does what she wants. It's admirable, actually."

"Mmmhmm," Bucky mumbled in response, flipping to another page in the book.

"That's it? Mmhmm?" Steve retorted with a laugh, "I thought you'd have been happier to make a new friend, and a female friend nonetheless."

"I'm sort of done with making friends," Bucky told him, "I'm too old, and I don't trust anyone anymore."

"Oh come on Buck, she's nice."

"I know what you're getting at Steve, and it's not going to happen."

Steve sighed and Bucky heard his footsteps leave the room. He knew Steve wanted him to get back on the horse, but it just wasn't the right time. Frankly, he didn't know if there would be a right time. It wasn't like it used to be, when he would go at any girl who flashed him a smile. Now it was a guessing game of "is she nice or is she going to screw me over in a month". He was tired of chasing girls, too. It had been a while and it seemed like modern women were just not what he was after. He hadn't found Mandy sexually attractive, just nice. And the other women at work who were closer to his age didn't do anything for him either. Steve was right, Darcy was nice, he just didn't have it in him to pursue a relationship.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_insignificant_**


	12. Forgivness

He was tucked away in a corner of the library when Darcy plopped down in front of him. "You've been in here for a month, Barnes."

He glanced up at her and made a face at "Barnes", no one called him that.

"Okay, well not for a month straight, but a good portion of a month. You're starting to look homeless again, no offense."

"Did Steve send you in here?"

It was Darcy's turn to make a face, "You know other people care about you besides Steve, Barnes."

He rolled his eyes, "You've met me… twice. And once was because you bumped into me on the way here, actually. So I hardly think you care about me. No offense, _Lewis_."

Darcy sighed, "You're an asshole."

"Excuse me?!"

"That was one thing they left out of your file."

"You read my file?!"

Darcy nodded, "I read everyone's' files, _James_. I work for the same team you do, I have to know who I'm dealing with. Plus, Banner likes me, so he lets me help with his psych cases sometimes. He says I'm good with people."

Bucky put a pencil in his place in the book and set it on the table, staring intently at Darcy, "So I'm a psych case?"

"You were in a cryogenic freezer for the good part of seven decades, you've been dehumanized beyond the limits of what most people can endure, you've had your memories suppressed and then flooded… Shall I go on?"

He shook his head, "I don't want to talk about this, you should go."

"You don't scare me, I'm not leaving."

"I didn't say I was planning to scare you, I just don't intend to hurt a civilian for insulting me."

Darcy snorted a laugh and leaned back in her chair, "Yep, _asshole_."

He picked up his book and prepared to get up from the table.

"I work with a guy who turns into a giant green …_ hulk_. I work with a woman who I don't even quite know what to explain her job title as, because the last time I asked her she laughed and said "you really don't want to know". I work with a guy who runs around in spangly tights and punches guys like Hitler in the face with a spangly shield. And a dude with jet pack wings! And a friggin' AI suit of armor! Not to mention the most accurate archer in the history of archery… Oh, and a Norse god… My best friend is DATING a NORSE GOD. And you think I'm afraid you're going to hurt me? You look like a one of those bedraggled shelter pets in the ASPCA commercials. And if you try to kill me for saying that I will taser you, so don't even try. I hear metal arms are really good conductors of electricity."

"I don't -"

"You don't have to like me, Barnes. I don't give a shit if you don't like me. But at least learn to like yourself, and quit being an asshole!"

* * *

Steve's gaze was stifling as he stared at Bucky from across the kitchen table in his apartment.

"She just… blew up at me." Bucky sighed, "I barely said anything."

"She has a soft spot for … underdogs, if you will," Steve replied, "And she doesn't take no for an answer, so she might say she's okay with you not liking her, but that's really just a defense mechanism. You hurt her feelings, Buck, plain and simple."

"I didn't _do_ anything!"

Steve's gaze remained level, "Exactly."

Bucky glared at him and Steve crossed his arms over his chest before continuing. "You know, she's right. At least a little. You need to stop brooding, and I know that is easier said than done, but you're never going to get back to living your life if you can't accept that you have a support group here. If you don't want us around I'm sure Tony can set up another space somewhere else, but I think being with other people is nice. Right?"

"Its so easy for you, you know that right? You just flash your little patriotic smile and people blush and want your autograph, and you've got nothing marring your neat little history book. But everywhere I turn people are telling me I'm the 'underdog'. You know why? Because I have to overcome all the horrible crimes against my own country I've committed over the last 70 years. I can't pretend like that didn't happen, I -"

"Bucky, stop. Listen to me, are you planning to murder me right now?"

"What? No, why I -"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you! You're not trying to hurt anyone, Buck. And you never were. Believe it or not there's this thing called manipulation, I'm sure you're familiar with that term now. People can be tricked into doing stupid things, but they can just as easily be put back on course. If you ever revert back, well we'll tackle that if we get there, but right now you're on track. And there's this other thing called forgiveness, where people acknowledge that a mistake was made and they let it go, because they love the other person too much to carry around a grudge for the next 70 years."

"I shouldn't be forgiven for what I've done!"

"Do you regret what you did, do you feel sorry for it?"

"Everyday…"

"Then you're worthy of forgiveness, Buck. You've earned that."

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_elevated_**


	13. A Challenge

"I just uh, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I need to stop pushing away people who -"

He was cut off by Darcy forcefully hugging him. "What are you -"

"Friends hug each other when they're making amends, get used to it. Plus I've always wanted to hug a piece of ancient history, it's on my bucket list. The only problem is they don't let you hug museum displays."

"You're not funny," Bucky retorted.

"You laughed," Darcy snorted, "Had to have been at least a little funny."

"So we're friends now?"

"We've been friends," Darcy said, rolling her eyes, "Friends are allowed to argue, stupid. What you and Steve never got into fights?"

All the time, "Not too many."

"Beep beep beep, my bullshit meter senses a load of crap nearby."

Buck snorted and they were both quiet for a moment.

"So, tell me about things," Darcy finally said, sitting on the edge of her coffee table.

"What kind of things?"

"How's life, any new books? Enjoying modern American life?"

"It's too warm," Bucky told her, "And it's too loud."

"You don't have to wear long sleeves all the time," Darcy chided, "And buy some earplugs."

He rolled up his sleeve and glanced at her, "Yeah because the public is going to take one look at me and run away screaming."

Darcy rolled her eyes again, "So, the tough guy us self-conscious eh?"

He shrugged and rolled his sleeve back down, "Wary."

"You know you shouldn't be so worried about what other people think."

He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. She blushed. "I don't think people are as scared of you as you think…"

"They should be," he mused, sitting next to her.

Darcy punched him lightly on the arm, "Oh stop it Mr. Softy, I don't think you even take yourself seriously. When was the last time you did anything for yourself? You spend so much time trying to make sure everyone else is doing okay, and that they aren't mad at you… You're the one who needs to make sure _you're_ okay."

"I'm fine," Bucky replied flatly.

"Mhmm…" Darcy mumbled. She said something else under her breath that Bucky didn't quite catch.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Oh no no, now you have to tell me."

"I just…. No, I don't want to bring that up." She bit her lip and he waited for her to finally give in.

"You won't hurt my feelings," Bucky told her.

"Why did you trust Mandy so much?"

"What?"  
"I think you were jumping at the chance to find someone who wasn't going to turn tail when they found out who you were. But you moved too fast, you're still not even comfortable in your own skin, you can't expect other people to be 100% at ease around you when you're not even being honest with yourself. I mean, be honest, you tried really hard to impress her right? Even if you didn't want to sleep with her, you did try to sweep her off her feet, right? You thought she was the best thing that ever happened to you, but did you ever even stop to think if you were going to be happy living on her couch for the rest of your life? What _do_ you want?"

"I sort of just wanted things to go back to the way they were…" Bucky said absentmindedly carding his hands through his hair, "I guess I can't do that, huh?"

Darcy shook her head sadly, "Life doesn't go in reverse, Barnes."

"Well, I guess I just…" he sighed, then let out a defeated laugh, "I don't know…"

Darcy leaned over and put her head on his shoulder, "The world isn't so bad these days, I swear, you just have to get out there and… I don't know, find where you fit into it. I mean are you going to be a tail chaser in modern day America too?"

"It isn't as easy as it used to be," he sighed, "Plus the prosthetic isn't' really eye candy."

"There are some girls who would be totally into that."

When he didn't reply Darcy added, "If it were attached to a smiling face and not acting like a depressed lump, that it is."

"You're so helpful," Bucky laughed softly.

After a few moments Darcy shifted so she was looking at him straight on, "I have a challenge for you."

"Oh?"

"You have a month to pick a hobby. Besides reading! And, you have to start doing what you want to do. That means if you get up and you don't want to dress like a grandpa, well then don't!"

"Hey, I don't dress like a grandpa… Do I?"

Darcy shrugged, "Not for me to tell you. You have a month." She smiled at him and then jumped off the table, pushing him to the door.

"Have fun with that, Barnes."

"Yeah whatever, Lewis." He smiled to himself as she shut the door, and then laughed to himself.

He knew exactly what the first thing he was going to do 'for himself' was going to be.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_minimal_**


	14. Yulia

It was a funny sight to see Nat rolling around on the floor with a puppy, but that was the current scenario in Bucky's living room.

"Yulia, _govorit'_!" Nat cooed to the puppy, who barked back immediately, butt wagging in the air. "Damn, she's smart," Steve said wistfully, "She speaks Russian already."

"What, you thought I'd get a dumb dog?" Bucky laughed, sitting next to Steve and offering him a beer. Steve took it gratefully and replied, "Nah, of course not."

"I did my homework," Bucky told him, full of pride. "She's half Border Collie, half German Shepard. She's got smart genes built right in."

"That's good, Buck. Say, what sparked the interest in getting a dog anyhow?"

"I've kind of always wanted one," Bucky admitted, "And everyday when I walk to get coffee there's a poster for a shelter on one of the telephone poles. I kept thinking maybe it would be good for me. I read a book on how dogs are really good, you know… for PTSD and stuff."

"Yeah, yeah they're supposed to be very good therapy."

"_Dayte mne vash lapu_, Yulia," Nat told the puppy.

"Do you really think she's going to learn 'shake' this early on?" Bucky asked.

Nat waited patiently with her hand outstretched, not saying anything. After a few seconds Yulia stuck a tiny paw on her hand and then looked up, waiting for confirmation.

"_Khorosho, khorosho_!" Nat praised giving Yulia a treat, "See? This girl's a genius, I'm telling you James."

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks he forced himself to think of other things he really wanted to do "just for him". At first it felt sort of silly. He made himself consider everything he was going to that day, and sometimes he said it out loud as though Yulia was going to back him up. Most of the time she just sat down at his feet waiting for a treat (a bad habit Nat had started). It started when he first got up, he make himself really think about what he wanted for breakfast. Something he hadn't even thought about when he was with Mandy, because most of the time she cooked before he was up. He decided French toast was his favorite, but a lot of work.

Then he would evaluate his wardrobe. Most of what he had was black t-shirts and jeans, which he soon found boring. JARVIS offered to order him something else, and he sat for a good hour looking at catalogs with Yulia on his lap. He order a few button down shirts in light blues and greens, colors he decided he liked a lot. He also ordered a suit, a tie, and a couple dress shirts/pants. It felt right, like maybe he was going to need them for something important in the future.

He decided he was going to wait and decide about tedious things like his hair, shoes, and what type of toothpaste until he'd decided on a favorite type of music. Music was important to him long ago, and he wanted to reincarnate that appreciation. He had JARVIS order him this new device called an iPod which could apparently hold any type of music he wanted, and a lot of it. When it came in he and Yulia set up an iTunes account and got to work. Things like rap and hip hop he wasn't too fond of, but he decide he was okay with country music, southern rock, and jazz. He also really liked soul music, most of the singers put so much emotion into their words, it made him want to print out the songs and paste them on the walls.

With one week left in the month he was beginning to feel a lot more relaxed than he had since… He couldn't even remember when. Things he used to get annoyed with hardly bothered him anymore, and he wasn't as jumpy walking down the street when Yulia was with him.

He had one week left to his challenge, and he was looking forward to making every day count.

**Current Threat Level Status: ****_insignificant_**


	15. New York

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while, things have been so crazy with my class schedule I don't have any time to write :( I will do my best to update more frequently now that I have a bit of a break.**

It was the last day of Darcy's challenge and Bucky was busy preparing for the day he had planned for himself. He showered briskly, using the green minty shampoo he'd decided was his top choice, then combed his hair (which grew like a weed he was realizing, much to his chagrin) before throwing on a grey tee-shirt and a pair of jeans. He'd chosen some sort of toothpaste with these little bits of "breath strips" in it because it looked like confetti. He'd decided that he still liked to wear oxfords even though he knew Darcy would say that made him a grandpa, but they just felt right.

Before his shower he'd had french toast, coffee, and a banana, he'd also worked out and taken Yulia for a walk. Basically his normal routine at this point, but the afternoon was going to be something different from his usual routine entirely. He was going to explore the city, on his own. Three times he'd almost chickened out and gone to pick up Yulia from Nat's so he could take her with him, but he reminded himself that everything was going to be okay. He hadn't been more than a few blocks from Stark Tower without someone else since he'd been "back" and he knew he needed to push himself or things weren't ever going to improve for him. He couldn't spend all of his time in his apartment, and there were places he really did want to visit on his own.

The first place he visited was China Town, and then Little Italy. It had been decades since he'd had a cannoli, and he'd never tasted half of the food they brought him at the Chinese restaurant. The bowls of soups, pastas, and other delights made him feel welcome and safe, two things he was slowly learning to be again. He stuffed his face with food and picked up a few trinkets to decorate his apartment with. Then he made his way to some of the other touristy locations in the city. He went on a tour at Radio City Music Hall. He visited Central Park. He ate at Bubba Gump's Shrimp which he'd seen in a movie recently. He took a bus tour. He ate frozen yogurt and visited a museum of modern art. He did things that people in this city had probably already done and gotten bored with, but that to him were all brand new. The city had changed so much since he and Steve were two young guys chasing dames through the streets.

By the end of the day he was tired and full to the brim. He had three bags of souvenirs, and the pride of knowing he'd done something all by himself. Not even when people stared at him did he feel out of place, he just shrugged it off, because he knew better than to assume their looks were malicious.

* * *

Darcy was sitting on the floor by his apartment when he walked down the hall that evening.  
"Hey Barnes, what's the verdict?"  
"How long have you been sitting here?" Bucky asked.  
"Nat was going to stop by in a bit and we were going to take Yulia for an evening stroll before she handed her back over to you, but you showed up before she did. So like, ten minutes."  
Bucky nodded, "Want to sit inside and wait instead of on the floor?"  
Darcy stood up and stepped to the side so he could unlock the door for them. "So what'd you do today?"  
"Just walked around," Bucky shrugged. He walked into the apartment and put his stuff on the floor, "Want something to drink?"  
Darcy shook her head no and sat on the couch, "Feeling any more at ease around here?"  
He nodded slowly and sat in the chair across from the couch. "It's slow going, but yeah." He pushed his hair back from his face and leaned back in his chair. His feet were sore from walking all day.  
Darcy muttered something under her breath and Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Do you have, like, supersonic hearing or something? How do you always hear me…"  
"Good listening skills," he said, "It helps you not get killed and stuff." He waited for her to repeat what she said but she just looked at him intently. "You're not going to tell me, are you."  
"You'd probably shoot me, so no."  
"I don't have a gun," Bucky told her, which was technically a lie, but she didn't need to know.  
Darcy rolled her eyes, "Fine, you'd stab me, either way my lips are sealed."  
They sat in silence for a moment before Bucky piped up, "So, you're not going to make me give you a challenge report?"  
Darcy laughed abruptly, "You actually did shit? Good for you Barnes."  
"What do you mean, did you think I wasn't going to? I mean I didn't like keep a journal of it but..."  
"You're such a pain in the ass I figured you just laughed me off," Darcy sighed, "You're full of surprises gramps."  
"Are surprises good?" he blurted.  
Darcy gave him a smug grin, "Only some surprises. Like, "surprise here's a cake" is good but "surprise the world is ending… like for the 4th time" isn't as good."  
"Duly noted."  
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Bucky stood up to answer it and was promptly greeted with Yulia plowing into him. (He always forgot Nat didn't need to be let in, she just got in.) "Here's your girlfriend," Nat laughed handing him the leash, "I think she missed you."  
"Thanks," Bucky said, "Sorry you and Darcy didn't get to take her for a walk like you planned."  
Nat shrugged, "We still on for the gym tomorrow?"  
He nodded, "Yeah, see you at 11."  
After Nat had left he took Yulia's leash off and she promptly bounded over to the couch and sat on Darcy. "Yulia, get off of Darcy." He sighed, watching the puppy's face fall at being reprimanded.  
"Did you know your daddy is an old cranky man?" Darcy asked Yulia, scratching her back. "Is he cranky to you? Huh? How could he be cranky to that face."  
Bucky couldn't help but chuckle.  
"So, tell us about your adventure into self knowledge," Darcy said, playing with Yulia's ears.  
He let out a sigh and walked back over to the chair. He should have known he wasn't going to get away without telling her...

_**Current Threat Level Status:**_ **_low_**


End file.
